The Bozeman weekly chronicle. (Bozeman, Mont.) 1883-1889, 1887-06-15
THE LOST MADONNA.

Dining with Mrs. Van Gorden somt
years ago when poor Gorden was still
alive, began to eXpatiate on a Landscape
obtained day or two before from 6
painter in whom certain artists had in
terested me, and whom came to know
WELL The enjoyment of ownership, was
saying, was greatly enhanced by the sac
rifices which had been necessary to get the
prize. This pleasure had to be cut off
that necessity dispensed with and so many
hours of precious time devoted to getting
money by repulsive work. The price had
been paid sum by sum, until now was
full owner of one of the most beautiful
creations Of the day. In describing how
wonderfully the artist had felt the modu.
lation Of the earth in the bare Newport
pasture, how poetical was the colorine
and the lonely look Of the wide fields, how
ancient and spectral the apple orchard on
the right, with its mossy trunks and thick
limbs writhen by salt winds, splintered
BY coats of ice in the long winters, had
forgotten to name the workman. Even
when came to speak of the sea distance
melting with the most glorious colors into
a mysterious horizon, half mist, half sky
line, and the sky itself of that indetermin-
able blue which is green, or Of green that
is blue, just as you happen to see it first
even then l had not uttered his name.
"You are not likely to know IT," an
swered when my hostess inquired; "not
Q very distinctive one at best. Henry
Brown"
Mrs. Van Gorden dropped her spoon In
the soup as if she had burned her tongue,
bent her head down and raised her napkin
to her mouth.
"What sort Of fellow is her" asked
Gorden in that hearty bass of his, whirl-
ing his silky beard aside with gesture
that stamped him to his friends in any
crowd, however big.
"As queer as they make them," said 1.
"Fancy tall, lean man, with long feat
ures, a long hand, cynical look that
destroys what must have been once great
physical beauty, absolute carelessness of
dress without any slovenliness, the most
haunting eyes that you have ever seen.
About the fine arts, by which he lives, or
rather starves, he has ideas-or, perhaps
1t is truer to say, utters sentiments-most
repulsive to those who love artistic crea-
tons. 1t is all humbug, according to him,
and he processes to be in q state of per-
petual wonderment how people can be
found so foolish as to exchange gold dol
lars for daubs Of paint. At the same time
he acknowledges that it is his interest to
continue the deception, for otherwise the
starvation which he now calls relative
would become absolute. Not that he con-
siders his life worth anything; but his an
cestors, having bequeathed to him an in
stinct of self preservation, sway and over
ride his common sense SO far as to compel
him to struggle just enough to exist"
tIrrsrl lad a.
Gorden rather than my friend during
these remarks, for that lady has quiet
way Of exacting from the comrades Of her
husband not Difference merely, but strict
attention. never met woman who did
this more simply and effectually without
seeming to intend it. Husband and guests
must make her the center; woe betide
anybody who shall forget what she con-
siders her duel Now, there are feelings
that betray themselves by a certain rigid
ity of face, forced fixity Of interest; the
latter struck me in Mrs. Van Gorden
while spoke Of Henry Brown.
"Do you know himf' asked suddenly,
She put her hand to her throat as If a
little choked, laughed, gave a quizzical
look, and said:
Him? 1 know six Henry Browns.'
"You could not mistake this one. He
is man Of the most tortuous mind, with
whom argument consists of a series of
escapes into fresh holes in the ground,
whence he will peep with strange, sat
urnine glee of his own and shift as soon
as hard pressed He was admirably edu-
Gated in some Jesuit college or other so
far as concerns the classics and what the
old pedagogues used to call dialectics; but
all science is dead wall to his mind.
He has a mania, however, for inveighing
against science, and as he would rather
die than read scientific book, his re-
marks are extremely picturesque, can
tell you"
'T'd like you to show us the picture, /"
quoth Gorden. "What do you say,
Edithy'
"Ye-es. Some day or other, when it's
quite convenient. But you know how
full the engagement book is just now'i
GIVE told you one side Of him." con-
tinued; ''here's another. IIc is Catholic,
you know, but, should fancy, not pro-
Tossing or strict Catholic. And you would
not be his friend long before you would be
surprised at finding yourself the subject
of insidious attacks as q Protestant, That
stage would be followed by an aggressive
campaign intended to make you join the
Roman church, The comic part is that
he can't bear priests himself, and, l really
believe, never goes near church."
GOrtlen glanced trifle uneasily at his
wife as l said this, and | remembered
having heard something about Mrs. Van
Gorden to the effect that she once Joined
the Catholics, or had at any rate coquetted
with Rome. She changed the subject
rather abruptlyfas if she had heard quite
enough of painter and picture.
The truth was that little was known Of
Mrs. Van Gortlen's early life. She was
supposed to come from Buffalo or Other
town which the true limited New Yorl
person regards hazily as in the west Tht
stoutest scandal searcher was rebuffed BY
her easy, smiling parties to the mere OF
less brutal questions that were put regard
ing her family and antecedents. l only
once heard IN allusion made by her to hel
life before marriage, and that was in tht
nature of an unguarded outbreak when
rallied her on an intense look of devotion
she directed toward Gorden. 1t was liks
the breaking Of q cool bed of lava:
s"That man! You little know my con
dition, what was, what meant to do
when that man saved me, made me
created me again. worship him. If he
died should not live"
was scared, but strengthened, at sucf
a flash rs that; but she, scared and hu
INFLATED. Poor Gorden is dead and his
widow lives; but you need not suppose
that she was posing or meant nothing
No, she has learned that it is nobler t.
live on for others than to allow herself t.
waste away because her mate is gone.
che next day l heard Henry Browns
tap at my door, and he came in with tn,
stealthy tread habitual to him and thai
manner of being surprised to find me al
home which is one of his otldnesses. Tic
filed pipe and took his seat rs usual be
fore the fire where his eyes could rest OF
his own landscape. Every now and thcr
he would get up, walk about uncertainty
then turn to the picture and look closel,
at some portion Of it, while his hand per
formed curious caressing movement, Us
If he loved the canvas. Then he woult
recollect himself and sit down precipitately
and for ten minutes keep his eyes away
Gradually, however, they would return t.
the painting, and he would become alb
sorbed in train of thought, whetfel
happy or painful could not tell, having
this canvas, or something that 1t sug
gested, for the pivot round which 1t turned
One of Henry's charms was just sucl
an unconscious act as this, done while h
was thinking himself completely unreada
BILE, and yet an act patent to the meanes
understanding Perhaps it flattered one'
generosity, for it seemed to put him at
disadvantage as child might be placed
and his weakness called out your forbcar
ter, like the movements of a snake trying
In ,txrt tl,t bat Nflt in